Category Archives: Process

Out of the Studio, Into the Studio

I am at the Vermont Studio Center’s Vermont Artists Week this week. What a privilege!
Who knows what I may be up to when you read this, but it will definitely involve thread, dye and silk…with hopefully some unexpected results. We’ll see.

Coffee Table 1 ©Elizabeth Fram, 8.5 x 11 inches, Ink on Paper

That said, I prepared this post before leaving, which is why it’s so brief.
I’m reaching back into my sketchbook archives from January because these end-of-day sketches of the disarray on our coffee table seem to best (& humorously) illustrate the general state of my brain as I was getting organized before leaving.

Coffee Table 2 ©Elizabeth Fram, 11 x 8.5 inches, Ink on Paper

This Sunday, May 6 from 2-5pm, will be Vermont Artists Week Open Studios. Details are in the link. Everyone is welcome, so please come to the Studio Center in Johnson to see the work that was created during this past week by the more than 50 artists and writers attending.
Hope to see you then!

10 Days of Stitches

It’s been nice to get back to stitching again after being out of the studio for 10 days and then becoming immersed in computer work in preparation for Drawing Threads at the Gruppe Gallery.

I find that taking pictures mid-process, often at the end of each day, gives me just enough distance to plan out what I’m going to tackle next, while marking the evolution of a piece for later reference.

Water-soluble pen marks on raw silk give me the guidelines I need for adding the stitches which will create the Shibori pattern once the fabric is dyed.

Surprises always occur during the dye process

It’s worth checking out the “wrong” side to see if that might be a better option. I opted for the deeper colors of the “front” in this piece, but it’s still fun to see the strength of the blue on the back-side.

Outlining with stitches of a middle value give me a basic structure to work from. Often, as the piece progresses I’ll stitch over those lines with a color/value that is better for bringing out the form. If you look closely you can see the white lines that are my guide. After reading Michelle Kingdom’s interview on textileartist.org, I learned about graphite paper as a means of getting your initial drawing on cloth. It gives a much cleaner line than the water-soluble pen I had been using.

This is the product that I’ve been using to create my initial outline. I chose white so it would show up on a dark background, but it is available in other colors. While Michelle Kingdom mentioned that the graphite paper she uses is permanent, the lines created by this paper are not. I have to think ahead and be careful not to touch the lined area because it will rub off so easily…both good and bad.

With the deeply dyed background, my images are often a mix of positive and negative. Here, white stands in for what would be a black line if I were drawing on white paper.

I’m fond of the textural effect of the stitches that curl along Quinn’s back, making for a suggestion of fur without being literal.

Stitching her bed opens up an opportunity to play with shapes and textural effects, adding an abstracted element while working in tandem with the pattern of the shibori and the more realistic depiction of Quinn.

Finishing stitches at the end can be tiny additions that subtly affect the whole. These details are time-consuming but one of my favorite parts of the process.

Speaking of details: There was something about her back that was bothering me. It can be a huge breakthrough once you figure out what needs to change, and often it’s just a minor tweak. I removed the 4 stitches that I’ve circled in red – as you will see in the next picture – and it made all the difference.

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All this time spent stitching provides a great opportunity for listening. Not too long ago, my friend and mixed-media/knitting sculptor Eve Jacobs-Carnahan recommended listening to an episode about El Anatsui’s 2009 piece “Black River” on The Lonely Palette podcast. If you are interested in Anatsui’s work, I’m sure you will also find the 23 minutes well spent. Since then, I’ve been catching up on all the Lonely Palette episodes — each discusses one piece from the Boston MFA collection in detail. Host Tamar Avishai dusts off art history, giving listeners context and anecdotes that make you hungry to learn more. See if you don’t agree.

Partners

The series of shibori-dyed and embroidered pieces I’ve been making for the past year are all tightly connected. Ideas that crop up in the midst of working on one usually find their way to actualization in the next. As such, all the works are related and in many ways companions. Yet these two peonies, the first pieces I’ve completed in 2018, are more tightly paired than all the rest.

Crescendo ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 14 x 11 in., Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk. This piece is now framed and has been sold to a collector who has very generously agreed to delay shipment until after my upcoming show is finished. Follow the progression of its creation

As interpretations of a couple of sketches made two days apart last July, (note the progression of the blossom opening), they will be viewed side-by-side in my upcoming exhibit Drawing Threads: Conversations Between Line & Stitch. Variations in tone and scale are slight enough to leave no question that they were conceived together, yet subtle differences allow each to carry its own voice.

Pesante ©2018 Elizabeth Fram, 14 x 11 in., Stitched-resist dye and embroidery on silk. Finding the right title is often challenging. I wanted to find names that would match the feeling of these pieces. The full opening of a peony is glorious, and the word Crescendo perfectly matched the anticipation and build-up to a peony at its peak. Pesante, also a musical term, means “in a heavy manner”. It seems to fit the nature of the flowerhead in this image perfectly.

I dyed the silk for both of them at the same time, but with attention to maintaining some differentiation. Crescendo’s background is deeper and more saturated, begging for the strength and pop of the bold magenta threads. Powerful color allows the stitching to maintain authority amid the surrounding intensity of dye, while also providing a means of grounding the more open and fluttery petals.

The flowerhead of Pesante, heavier and more compact than that of Crescendo, works in tandem with its more muted background dye tones and the dustier colors of thread used to describe it. Its visual weight allows Pesante to hold its own against its showier sister.

Both images explore the same vase and table surface, yet it became apparent that each had to be approached differently…another fruitful learning experience.

These pieces are not a diptych, although they will be displayed together for the duration of the exhibit. They are independent of each other but they are still partners, which reminds me of a line from Kahlil Gibran’s poem On Marriage

“Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.”

On a different note:_________________________________________________________________________________________

It will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that this book by David Remfry looks absolutely charming. Parka Blogs has more info.

Repetitio mater studiorum est

“Repetition is the mother of all learning”

The past couple of weeks I’ve been painting glasses of water.

I’m interested in the distortion of the cloth’s pattern seen through the water, and the challenge of capturing the effect of light on both the glass and the liquid.

Having a repetitive subject like this to sink my teeth into is probably one of the best ways for me to learn and to grow (think scales on the piano). But in order to maintain interest it’s just as important that there is sufficient variety and an adequately steep challenge.

I’m finding enough similarity between subjects that I am starting to sense a recurring order and structure with each new sketch, while the variables of pattern and color between them (as well as the desire for improvement) is the substance that is keeping me thoroughly engaged.

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I searched a few of my heroes to see what they did with the subject

Mark Adams, Black Water Jar, 1982. Aquatint, 16.25 x 16.75, Teaberry Press, Edition of 30

David Hockney, Postcard of Richard Wagner with Glass of Water, 1973. Etching, 8.5 x 6.1, Edition of 100

Wayne Thiebaud, Drink, 1999-2002. Oil on panel, 26.6 x 29.8cm

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Check out Marc Taro Holmes answer to the question: “When practicing drawing, do you recommended drawing the same thing till it becomes perfect or drawing different things every day?”

Also – if you are relatively local, I just noticed that Marc will be giving the workshop “Still Life in Watercolor” on December 2nd at the Helen Day Art Center in Stowe.

Try, Try Again

For the past month I’ve been working on the three small pieces I dyed in September.

It was relatively smooth-going on the first two, but the third has proven to be a real challenge. I mistakenly thought that working smaller would be quicker and easier (the image area of each is around 3.5″ x 4″). Yet it didn’t exactly work out that way. This has been one of those instances when I have been grateful for the ease with which stitches can be undone.

Of the dozen pieces in this on-going series, this latest one has definitely been the trickiest, with many false starts. The saucer was killing me until I finally decided to just dive in and keep stitching to see what would happen.

Although there are technical elements of the earlier iterations that I like a lot and will likely pursue in the future, that darn spoon needed to be grounded.

The experience is best equated to matching up the threads of a screw-on lid — while sometimes the top seems to be closed, you know it’s not quite right.

There’s nothing to be done but undo and retry, sometimes several times. Keeping in mind Adrianna Huffington’s quote: “Failure is not the opposite of success, it’s part of success”, it’s a sweet feeling once everything is settled properly into the grooves at last.

On a Different Note________________________________________________________________________________________

Decoding the Creative Genius of Leonardo da Vinci: This week Tom Ashbrook of NPR’s On Point interviewed biographer Walter Isaacson about his latest book ‘Leonardo Da VInci’. Fascinating! I’m adding it to my “to-be-read” list.

Shibori x3

Working in tandem with my 3 jalapeño sketches last week, I stitched my way through the waiting period between watercolor washes.

Stitched-resist

When I was a college student, I spent a Winter Term in Seattle working with and learning from watercolorist Karen Guzak. At that time her studio was in her home and she counseled the value of such an arrangement in allowing one to multi-task — a term I’m not sure we were using yet in the late 70’s. At 20, I couldn’t relate to being able to throw in a load of laundry while a different kind of wash dried, but her words stayed with me and have served me well. Always having a home studio is what has allowed me to work continuously around the privilege of being home with two kids.

Stitching drawn up and dyed

Just as I mentioned last week, there is much to be learned through repetition and variation, and that fact is perhaps most salient when pieces are made in close succession.

shibori 3

I usually set up at least 3 different colors of dye to use at once. These pieces gently progressed through variations of those colors so that they are each in the same family while remaining different. Thread choice will eventually highlight those distinctions.

On a Different Note________________________________________________________________________________________

What I’m reading now: A Piece of the World by Christina Baker Kline — “a fictional memoir of the woman in the famed Wyeth painting Christina’s World” – Erik Larson.
So far, so good – there is much that resonates considering its Maine setting.

Swept Away

Process is everything.

Every now and then I read or hear something surrounding the creation of a work of art that is beyond inspiring. Subject matter or medium is immaterial; there is just an undeniable and infectious pull in the raw and magnetic enthusiasm laid out in the story of how a work came to be.

At the risk of seeming overly dramatic, I dare you to listen to this just-shy-of-12-minutes interview between Terry Gross of Fresh Air and Ray Manzarek, keyboardist for The Doors, without getting swept away by Manzarek’s passionate description of the collaborative development and arrangement of The Doors’ iconic song “Light My Fire“. You’ll never hear it again in the same way.

Here’s a teaser: John Coltrane, Johann Sebastian Bach, and the rhythms of Latin music were integrally involved. Wow! There’s nothing else to be said but enjoy!

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For the new piece begun this week, I thought it might be interesting to first under-dye the silk before beginning the mokume process

Next the threads were drawn up and deeper colors were added as usual.

The results after removing the threads. We’ll see how things work once the stitching begins.

Metaphorically Speaking

Last week a friend and I were talking about how making art is much like chess — a series of moves and counter moves in tandem.

©2017 Elizabeth Fram Beginning with an outline is pretty straightforward. The first major decision was to choose a variegated thread. The gentle change of color/value gives an initial suggestion of moving back and forth in space, in a way that solid-colored thread wouldn’t allow.

You may enter the process with an overall idea of the direction you’d like a piece to take and how you expect it to eventually end up but, unlike a recipe, the steps can’t be completely mapped out in advance or followed blindly.

©2017 Elizabeth Fram Stitched highlights and dark areas play together with the variation in value of the dye colors. It’s important to keep in mind how the two can work together rather than against each other. For instance, on the left handle, the dark inside area plays against the lighter area of dye just above it, while similarly the highlight of white in the corner of that same handle contrasts with the darker zone of dye above it.

Therefore it’s necessary to be open to surprises with flexibility, which is one of the key aspects of making that I’ve come to love most. Also, it’s the act of move, response, move, response, that lays open a sense of a living process as opposed to a mechanical progression.

©2017 Elizabeth Fram The shadow underneath really brings out the scissors’ definition, but also underscores the need to further define certain edges on the underside of the blades and in specific areas under the handles where the lightness of the variegated thread hindered the sharpness of the image.

There are plenty of challenges with each step, but the enjoyment of solving these inevitable hurdles becomes a strong allure within the process, seducing me back to begin the exchange again with every new work.

©2017 Elizabeth Fram The happy accident of the dye is that the darker areas on the upper edges enhance any suggestion that the scissors are underneath the shibori. However, I found when I stood back that the scissors seemed to be levitating above the surface they are sitting on. I changed the less dense areas of shadow by resewing them in a deeper red, more in line with the nearby dye color. Interestingly, that seemed to bring the scissors back down onto their surface.

The satisfying sense of interaction that comes with facing unexpected results have proven to make for richer resolutions.

Cut-Off (detail) ©2017 Elizabeth Fram Tiny tweaks at the end can make a huge difference. Adding a thin line of lighter value stitching on the top of the left handle, pulls it away from the background, lending a sense of substance.

Once corralled, I think it’s that intriguing dance between the known and the unknown that generates the nut of the satisfaction that comes with making art.

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Kéké Cribbs blog post Why We Need Art, for Tansey Contemporary gallery in Sante Fe, is a great reminder of our shared humanity and the part that art plays, not only in shaping our culture, but in preserving it — in part by helping to get it back on track when in danger of running off the rails.

Sketch to Stitch

I am not absolutely sure this piece is finished, but I’m very close. I’m going to sit with it for a while to see if any changes reveal themselves…a phenomenon I’ve learned is not all that uncommon. There’s often a bit of a dance between pulling out the necessary information without overstating it — and I’m trying to decide whether or not I’ve met or overshot that mark.

Meanwhile, these photos will give you a window into the process as it unfolds. I think it’s worth noting how helpful photos like these can be in moving a piece forward. Sometimes information stands out in a photograph that is harder to detect in the flesh.

Plate and Spoon

On a Different Note…

“Palaces of Self-Discovery”
I hope you will be able to carve out time this summer to spend with some really good books. With that thought in mind, take a swing through Thibaud Poirier’s striking images of public libraries around the world…true cathedrals for bibliophiles.

Seasonal Change as Incentive

After weeks of chill and rain and oogling other folks’ pictures on Instagram of gardens and trees that have long since come to life, the leaves are finally filling in and spots of color are beginning to bloom on our hill. I think it’s safe to say that, almost five full months into 2017, spring has finally taken root in Vermont.

The external changes of the seasons also tend to have an impact on me internally, so seasonal change-over invariably becomes a time for re-evaluating and rebooting work patterns. While posing the question of whether there are ways to improve isn’t a guarantee of definitive answers, I still think it’s healthy, and invariably productive, to at least take stock of studio habits at several points during the year. Juggling various goals and aspirations is an ongoing process requiring a certain level of flexibility, so there is much to be said for working to build habits that can improve efficiency, leaving time for change.

If you haven’t already read Charles Duhigg’s 2012 book The Power of Habit – Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business, it’s worth picking up from your library. The case studies he covers, both corporate and individual, are fascinating in their own right, but of course the real value of the book is in understanding the possibilities for applying his findings to our own habits and the ways we might want to change or develop them. What I found most compelling is the importance of belief (that the habit can become fully established) and the necessity of community, even just one other person, in fostering both the essential element of belief and, ultimately, success.

When I decided to recommit myself to drawing at the beginning of 2015, the most helpful advice I received was to incorporate it into my routine as a habit, relying on a self-determined trigger to spur myself into action at a regular time every day. Starting slowly with very short sessions allowed for gradually expanding both the time and scope devoted to each sketch…to the point where now I miss drawing and even feel something of a sense of guilt on the days I can’t fit it in.

If you are trying to make regular time for a new element in your creative practice, check out Ingrid Sundberg’s video, a step-by-step outline about building an early morning writing habit. While Sundberg’s recommendations are geared toward writing, her method is very similar to what was recommended to me for committing to daily drawing, and can easily be adjusted to fit whatever habit you may want to develop. Both approaches coincide with the core of what Charles Duhigg suggests in The Power of Habit.

Is there something that you’ve been wanting to build into a new habit? If so, take advantage of the change in season and give it a shot.